


Slave To My Desire

by angstytimelord



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Will is under Hannibal's spell, Will should know better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:15:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstytimelord/pseuds/angstytimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will knows that Hannibal is dangerous -- but he doesn't care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slave To My Desire

Hannibal Lecter was dangerous.

He knew that, and he still kept coming back for more. Will knew that he was placing himself in a precarious position, but he couldn't help it. Hannibal was his addiction; the more he was with the other man, the more he needed Hannibal's nearness.

He _needed_ that touch, that kiss; he _needed_ Hannibal's hands on his body, needed Hannibal inside him. He _needed_ to be taken, to be dominated.

He didn't care what other people might think of that need. Other people's thoughts, their ideas, their petty judgments, weren't important. All that mattered when he was with Hannibal was the two of them, and what the other man could give him.

He had never felt such release before; he'd never let anyone else get close enough to him to give him that release. Hannibal was the only person who had ever been able to get behind the walls he kept wrapped around himself, the only one to bring them crumbling to the ground.

Hannibal was dangerously close to knowing everything about him.

But that wasn't what made Hannibal dangerous. No, that knowledge was only the tip of the iceberg; his lover was dangerous because he was unpredictable, because he kept Will constantly off-balance. And because their relationship itself was so unbalanced.

Will knew that he was nothing more to Hannibal than a toy, a plaything. But he wanted -- _needed_ \-- to be more. Much more.

It didn't matter if Hannibal never saw him an equal; he wouldn't ask for the impossible. Hannibal would never see anyone as his partner, especially in the bedroom. He would always have to dominate, to be the one who held the power, the reins of control.

He didn't need to be Hannibal's equal. But he needed to know that their relationship was going somewhere, that he was more to the other man than just a toy to be played with and then carelessly thrown aside when Hannibal had tired of him.

If that happened, he would be broken in ways he couldn't even begin to imagine.

What would he do without Hannibal in his life? They might still be doctor and patient; they might even still be friends. They would obviously still be work colleagues, as Jack wouldn't stop consulting with Hannibal when his expertise could be of us.

But without the release that Hannibal gave him, without that steady rock that he knew he could count on, he would wither away.

He didn't want to think of what his life would be like without that steadying influence. He _needed_ to be with Hannibal, more than he could put into words. It didn't matter how close the other man got to him, how dangerous it could be for him to know all.

Will knew that he was like a moth to a flame, and that sooner or later, that flame was going to burn him to a cinder. But he didn't care. The exhilaration that being with Hannibal gave him seemed worth the danger, worth any risk that he might have to take.

Taking that risk was part of the excitement.

Those risks made him feel more alive than he ever had. Knowing that he was with someone who could tear down his protective walls terrified him, but it also made him feel energized, as though that danger gave him a new lease on life.

He felt as though he was walking along a tightrope, and that he could lose his balance and fall off at any moment, into a dark abyss that he might never be able to pull himself out of. But that risk only made his relationship with Hannibal seem more exciting, more exhilaration.

He wasn't afraid of Hannibal. No, he didn't need to be. He didn't believe that his lover would ever hurt him, even though there had been several times when he'd left Hannibal's house after a night spent there with too many bruises for him to count.

It wasn't the physical pain that told him Hannibal was dangerous. Rather, it was the fact that this man was able to reach into the depths of his psyche.

That was not only dangerous, it was frightening.

Hannibal could see into his soul without even trying. This man could pull out all of his secrets, render him naked and helpless with just his gaze, with only his words. He could tear away all of Will's protections, strip him of his hard-won confidence.

And yet, he wasn't afraid of Hannibal. That was odd. Normally, he would stay far, far away from anyone who had such power to see into him. But he couldn't stay away from Hannibal. Instead, he was drawn ever nearer, reaching out for his own destruction.

Eventually, this would have to end. He knew that. He knew that their relationship was ephemeral, that he would become redundant for Hannibal at some point. But it would have to be the other man who walked away, because Will knew he wasn't capable of doing so.

If he couldn't walk away from Hannibal now, what would he be like after they'd been together for a while and he'd fallen even deeper under his lover's spell?

He wasn't looking forward to that time, but he knew it was coming.

He was a slave to his desire for Hannibal. He had been since the first time their eyes had met, since that first handshake, that first tentative smile. He had fallen under Hannibal's peculiar power then, succumbing to his charm in one fell swoop.

Hannibal hadn't even had to try. All he'd had to do was be himself, and he'd won Will over. No, not won him over, Will corrected himself. Hannibal had held him in thrall from the first, mesmerized him. He knew that he had fallen into a trap.

But he didn't want to be freed from that trap. He would stay locked in it contentedly; that trap, after all, gave him all that he had ever wanted.

If he was a slave to his desire, then he was content to wear those chains. They felt comfortable, as though they had been made for him. They fit him to perfection; he was even comfortable in them. They didn't feel as if they needed to be cast away.

Rather, they felt as though they protected him.

Yes, Hannibal Lecter was dangerous for him, Will thought with an inward smile. Maybe he didn't even know just _how_ dangerous his lover was to his well-being. But he couldn't keep himself from reaching out for that flame, holding it in his hand.

Yes, he would be burned. He didn't doubt that. But he welcomed that flame, welcomed the danger, welcomed the chains that held him captive.

In the end, those chains were _his_ choice. He was exactly where he wanted to be; no one had been holding a gun to his head to force him into this. He'd made his own decision, and even if it proved to be the wrong one, the would have done what he wanted to do.

This was all he wanted or needed. If he was a slave to that desire, then so be it. The danger intoxicated him -- and it also, in some way, defined him.

This was his desire. This was his design.


End file.
